


Nightmare

by SparkleTindi



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, look i will TRY to get everyone but no promises, rated mostly for swearing, solas is a jerk (that's not a warning for content just me complaining), that sort of thing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2018-03-14 00:30:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3401843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparkleTindi/pseuds/SparkleTindi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I might have known some of them.<br/>If my life had gone differently…<br/>I might have been one of them."</p>
<p>This is Isaura's worst nightmare, ever, and yes, it recurs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I rated it T for mild groping. These two are very physically affectionate, and it comes out in everything I write about the pair of them.

It was after the first trip to Emprise du Lion that the nightmares started. She'd been sleeping poorly before that; how could anyone sleep _well_ knowing that the fate of the world rested on their shoulders? On top of that, as Varric put it, they had seen a lot of weird shit. It was enough to give anyone bad dreams.

This was not just a bad dream. She woke up screaming, sweat cooling on her skin and making her already-unruly red hair more tangled. She was grateful that her tower room had a buffer between her and the rest of Skyhold. It was the middle of the night; no one else needed their own sleep interrupted. Luckily, the night had been chilly so she'd shut the balcony doors. It was just her and one of Leliana's watchers, who wouldn't have been sleeping anyway. "Sorry," she called up to the "hidden" balcony.

"Are you all right, Your Worship?" came the solicitous reply. Her watcher tonight was the usual one, an elf woman named Runner. Runner had endeared herself instantly to the Inquisitor by introducing herself when she'd come on shift for the first time. They were both elf women surrounded by all these crazy shems, so they may as well get along, Runner had said. "Would you like me to get someone to get you a cup of tea?" she asked in the here and now.

"Would you, please?" Isaura Lavellan, Herald of Andraste and Inquisitor, replied. "I don't know if I'll be able to get back to sleep for awhile."

"That did sound like a corker, ma'am." Runner, who had been raised in Denerim's alienage, usually used Fereldan slang. She also had a talent for understatement. "I'll have one of the lads bring you a nice cup of peppermint. Soothes the stomach, does peppermint tea."

"Thanks, Runner." Isaura pulled on her robe and went over to her desk. She might as well get some work done while she got over that awful nightmare. It wasn't as if she didn't have anything to do. With the growing importance of the Inquisition, more and more people wanted the personal opinion of the Inquisitor. Isaura was generally too busy to be bothered, what with the whole "saving all of Thedas" problem she had on her hands, but it was a _great_ cure for insomnia.

She was wrestling with a suitably diplomatic response to an Orlesian noble who was too important to offend but insulting enough that she wanted to when she heard someone coming up the stairs. She expected one of the servants, but the steps sounded too heavy; the servants generally didn't wear heavy boots.

The man who came up the stairs did have her tea, but he was most definitely _not_ a servant. She smiled as a wavy, red-gold head cleared the railing. "Cullen," she said softly. "What are you doing here so late?"

"Runner came to get me," the Inquisition's commander replied, his return smile lightening his golden brown eyes. "She said woke up screaming," he said, the smile fading as he handed Isaura her tea and saw how dull her normally bright green eyes were. "You're exhausted." He set down his own mug and opened his arms.

Isaura walked into them and buried her face in his chest. "I hate Emprise du Lion," she said, voice muffled by his clothes. "I think I'd hate it even without everything else that's happening."

"Well, it's only understandable that you hate the Dales, love," he said gently. "I can't imagine there's an elf that doesn't feel at least some antipathy for them." He kissed the top of her head. "Is it related to the nightmare?"

"Yes," Isaura said, voice wobbling. "And no."

"Here, let me get rid of some layers. It's cold out there tonight." Isaura watched with undisguised appreciation as Cullen removed first his armor, and then his shirt. He glanced up from removing his boots and saw her watching. "If you really think _that_ would help," he teased, laughing.

"It might," she admitted. Then she shivered. "And then again, it might not."

Cullen's expression deepened from concern to worry. He took Isaura's hand and led her gently to the bed. "Come tell me what's wrong. You'll feel better if you talk about it; you always do."

He let go of her hand and made himself comfortable on her canopied bed. "This is bigger than mine," he mock-complained.

"Well, I _am_ the Inquisitor," she replied, smiling despite herself. "Besides, you sleep here more often than you do in your own room." She cuddled up against him, and he pulled her closer with one muscular arm. Normally, his touch sent pleasant shivers all over her, but, right now, she just took comfort in it, resting her head against his chest to hear his heartbeat.

"Talk about it, Isaura," Cullen said. "I can tell you firsthand that it's better to talk about nightmares than let them fester." He kissed the top of her head again. "Take it slowly; you were talking about the Dales."

"I hated the Emerald Graves, even as I marveled at the _Vallasdahlen_. I'd always wanted to see them, and they were beautiful, but they were also sad." She snorted. "Also, you know, full of great bears. Because regular bears aren't enough fun?"

Cullen laughed. "You and bears. What did the poor creatures ever do to you, apart from repeatedly trying to kill and eat you?" He traced soothing paths down her arm with his free hand.

"Funny," Isaura replied, poking him. She sighed. "The Graves were bad. I _expected_ the Graves to be bad. And yet, somehow, Emprise du Lion managed to be worse." She fell silent again, and Cullen nudged her. "Sorry. This is really hard to talk about."

"It's all right. You need to get it out, though. You've never woken up screaming before, or Runner would have said something."

In a dreamy sort of voice, she said, "There are a lot more red templars than we were expecting after Therinfal. Emprise was full of them." Cullen's arm tightened. "I know," she said. He kept up the gentle caress, and she continued. "They had kidnapped most of Sahrnia's people, ostensibly for mining, but really because they wanted to... experiment." His arm tightened again and, this time, his other hand jerked away from her. "I know," she said again. "We freed most of them."

"You can't save everybody."

"No." They both knew she wouldn't stop trying. "I was fine on the trip back, but I've had too much time to think since we got home."

"You always think too much," Cullen growled, suddenly rolling her onto her stomach. She laughed, and didn't fight him. "Aha. Just as I thought," he said, running callused hands up her shirt to massage the muscles on her back. She made a soft noise, and moved underneath him to take her shirt off. Cullen slid back to allow it, then, before she could lie down again, gently caressed her naked breasts.

Isaura laughed again. "I will know our relationship is over when you stop doing that," she teased. She settled on her chest, moving her hair aside so Cullen could reach her neck.

"Never happen," he replied, gently kissing the nape of her neck before starting the massage. "Your breasts are magical; I believe I've told you that before." He started on the back of her neck, working downward with firm, smooth strokes. "What was the actual nightmare, Isaura?"

The faint tremors he'd felt as he massaged her suddenly flared into full shivers, and then racking sobs, in one terrifying moment. Cullen, no stranger to panic attacks, kept rubbing her shoulders, the firm massage turning into a soothing caress. She rolled and he gathered her up in his arms again. Normally, the feel of her bare chest against his would have distracted him, but she was in such a state that he couldn't appreciate it. "Talk it out, beloved," he said, softly, his breath in her hair.

"I can't!" she sobbed, trying to pull back, get herself under control, but her lover refused to loosen his hold. "I don't even want to think about it again."

"Avoiding it is just going to give it more of a hold on you," he said, speaking from experience. "If you want me to guess, I'll try to, hmm?" She took a deep, quavering breath, and another, the storm passing as suddenly as it had appeared. "It had something to do with red templars, so I would guess..." he sighed deeply and kissed the top of her head.

"How did you figure it out?" Isaura said, before he could say the words out loud.

He chuckled, despite the seriousness of the situation. "You're usually all over me, no matter how tired you are. Since you're clearly not angry with me, it must be something else."

"We get so little time together," she grumbled, kissing his bare chest. "Even now, I resent this stupid nightmare for stopping me from appreciating you fully."

Cullen chuckled again, then sobered. "Isaura, you did save _me_. If I hadn't had you, standing in my office and shouting at me to have more faith in myself..." he shrugged. "I was on the edge of giving in anyway."

"You wouldn't have," Isaura said, tracing her fingers down his chest, but thoughtful rather than teasing. "Cassandra would have talked you around."

He snorted. "No, she wouldn't have. She would have _tried_ , yes, but she's not you. Even before I realized I was in love with you, I admired how carefully you use your words." He kissed her, softly. "Besides, I was so afraid I was going to let _you_ down; if you had said the word..."

It was Isaura's turn to snort. "Eventually, we would have fallen apart, Cullen. You knew what the right answer was; you just needed me to tell you what you already knew." She laughed then, and added, "This is basically my job. I tell people what they already know and convince them to believe it."

"You still saved me. And I know, even if what you fear the most _did_ happen," he said, covering her mouth with his hand before she could interrupt. "If it did, then you would be the one to do something about it. I wouldn't want anyone else, because everyone else except you, and perhaps Cassandra, would hesitate."

"Leliana wouldn't," Isaura replied, shivering again.

"She would," Cullen insisted, "but not out of fear. What would happen to me would be worse than the clean death you would give me if I became a red templar." Isaura's trembling intensified, and Cullen wrapped her up in his arms again. She felt so fragile in his arms, but she didn't break again. "There. I actually said it out loud. It's not going to happen, love. I'm off the lyrium for good, and you'd kill half of Tevinter to get to me if the Venatori tried anything."

"More than that," Isaura replied. She was tracing idle patterns on his chest, and, with the worst of the crisis over, Cullen was becoming distracted. "I would fight through half of Thedas to save you."

"My heroine," he said, rolling her onto her back and kissing her deeply. "However can I reward you?"

 


	2. Friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I thought I'd just start collecting all of these in one work, so I don't have to explain what the nightmare is every time. This time, Isaura has a super-short moment of "Awww" with Cassandra, since she's by far the person my Inquisitor spent the most time with. I hope to do one with each of the companions, and maybe the other advisors. We'll see. This was nice and short and fun to write. I'd like to expand it, but this particular night is done.

   The nightmare came again, as Isaura knew it would. The worst part was that they were in the Hinterlands, miles away from the one person who would have been the most helpful.  
    She didn't scream this time. She was proud of that. The others didn't need to wake up in a panic because she was having bad dreams. Clawing her way back to wakefulness, she found her bedroll soaked with sweat, and tangled from her thrashing. Disentangling herself from the bedding, she peered out of her tent.  
   There was a person by the fire, which had been poked back up to a full blaze. Knowing that she shouldn't be alone with her thoughts, Isaura went to see who it was.  
   Cassandra turned to greet the elf with a dark, crooked smile. "I heard you flailing around in there, and I assumed that you would be unable to return to sleep."  
Isaura sighed and sat down next to the Seeker. "You have nightmares, right?"  
   "Of course. I would worry about anyone who does what we do and does not suffer the occasional poor night of sleep." She handed the Inquisitor a flask. "Brandy. Good brandy, so go easy on it."  
   Isaura took a swallow. "Thanks." They stared at the flames in comfortable silence. "You probably have this one as well," she said quietly. "I can't imagine that you wouldn't."  
   "I expect I do, though I doubt that it is quite as painful for me as it is for you." Cassandra snorted softly. "Well, not the same kind of painful, anyway."  
   "You've had to face in reality what I only dream about," Isaura said softly. "How do you keep going?"  
   "I don't know, on nights like this one," the brunette admitted, staring up at the stars. "I think it is because I separated myself from the Order awhile ago, and I always knew that we might face each other across a battlefield. I made what peace I could with it when we were at Therinfal." She smiled. "Also, despite the fact that you should know better, you are always still so hurt when you cannot save everyone."  
   Isaura sighed. "We could have saved more. I always think that."  
   "You do what you can, when you can, Isaura. Don't let your failures break you. Everyone fails from time to time. The trick is to fail more intelligently each time." Cassandra put an arm around the elf's shoulders. "And don't feel guilty for having such a personal nightmare. Cullen is your shelter, just as you are his. It is no shame to fear having that taken away."  
   Isaura leaned into the hug. "You're right, of course."  
   "But it's hard to remember that when you're fresh from bad dreams and tired. Why do you think I am also out here?"  
   "Do you want to talk about your own nightmares?"  
   "No, but thank you. Helping you with your demons seems to have chased mine away." Cassandra smiled again. "Sometimes all you need is someone who understands."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...also probably a slight apology to Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena Pentaghast for voting for Alistair over her in the DA Ultimate Party final. I still love you, Cassandra, I promise!


	3. Varric

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This turned out entirely different from how I expected it to. I may do another, longer piece with Isaura's closer friends, if for no other reason than I love friendship stories. That will include Cassandra, Dorian, and Varric.

Isaura swore as she jolted awake. Again with the Nightmare, as she'd begun to think of it, capital letter and all. This one was worse, because they kept _getting_ worse. It was to the point where she barely slept away from Skyhold, and then only out of exhaustion. She stared at the ceiling of her tent, dreading trying to go back to sleep. They'd had a long day, she hated the Dales and the Emerald Graves in particular, and she was clearly not tired enough. Lately, there was only the Nightmare; keeping busy warded it off, as did Cullen, but she hadn't been busy enough and Cullen wasn't here. She wondered if it was even worth the effort to try and sleep. She'd managed to keep from screaming again this time, but she knew she wouldn't always be so lucky, and the others needed their sleep as much as she did, if not more.

Sighing, the Inquisitor fished a book out of her pack; she had several she'd wanted to finish, including a mystery she'd nicked from Cullen. What she _hadn't_ packed was _Hard in Hightown_. Yet here it was. Copies of Varric's crime serial turned up mysteriously all the time, though not generally in the nicely bound collector's editions like the one that she now held in her hands. Opening the book to the title page, she saw, in Varric's inimitable scrawl, "Isaura: I'm not sure if you've gotten a chance to finish this, what with saving the whole damn world and all. This is the first printing of this edition, complete with extra chapters, in case you have trouble sleeping. Varric Tethras."

Isaura wiped her eyes, careful not to drip on the inscription. She'd gotten fancier gifts, sure, but Varric had to have snuck this in after he noticed she wasn't sleeping the last time they'd been away from Skyhold. Besides, the last of the extra chapters hadn't been published yet; she'd be the first to read it, apart from the publisher. She wasn't _quite_ the bookworm that Dorian was, but there was something special about being the first person to read a book. On impulse, she flipped to the back, and saw more of Varric's writing. "Go back and read it from the beginning, Izzy," he scolded, and she laughed out loud. "Only cheaters skip to the end of the book first."

Aloud, Isaura muttered, "And if you call me 'Izzy' where anyone can hear you, I will be forced to murder you." She obediently turned back to the beginning and began reading.

The Inquisitor looked tired the next morning, but easily fobbed off questions of concern with, "Had a new book. You'd think I'd know better by now."

Varric, catching her eye, winked. "What'd you think of the ending?"

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still want to do everyone, but it may take awhile. Because I really mean EVERYONE, including the other advisers and probably Scout Harding, because damn if she isn't a friend, too.


	4. The Iron Bull

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bull has his own ways to fight the middle-of-the-night doldrums, and none of them involve what YOU'RE thinking...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bull's is longer for some reason (feel free to make risque jokes in the comments), but I like how it feels. It's fairly rough, but I think it'll do better to be out where people can see it. All this to say: PLEASE LEAVE COMMENTS I LOVE COMMENTS. Also, warning for swearing, because unsurprisingly, the Iron Bull swears a whole lot.
> 
> Because it's not 100% clear from context, this takes place in the Exalted Plains.

Isaura stared into the embers of the campfire, wondering how long she was going to be able to manage without proper sleep. It was fine when she was home in Cullen’s arms or when they were actually _doing_ something, but today had been nothing but listening to people blathering on at her. Worse yet, everyone here seemed to think she wanted to hear about the Orlesian civil war, and she didn’t _care_ about their damn war, except that it was keeping the Empress from committing forces to help them with Corypheus.

“Can’t sleep again, boss?” the Iron Bull said softly, sitting down next to her. “I bet you got all the napping you needed when we were listening to Lord Whatsit going on about the valiant cause this afternoon. I know I did.”

The Inquisitor snorted, handing Bull a mug of tea. “No kidding. If there's one thing I've gotten really good at, it's not yawning in the middle of their speeches, thank you, Josephine."

Bull chuckled. "Good thing you're in charge and not me, Boss. I'da killed someone important by now; I have no idea how you haven't, especially being Dalish and all." He set the mug down and stood up, offering Isaura his huge hand. "Come on. We're not tired, so we may as well do something about it."

Isaura grinned, accepting the assistance and getting to her feet. "You do know that I'm _very_ taken, right?"

Bull covered his mouth to keep from waking Cassandra and Varric with his laugh. "Don't worry! I wouldn't seduce you away from the commander. For one thing, he _could_ probably actually kill me." Bull handed Isaura a stick and led her to the edge of the camp. "For another," he grunted as he traced a circle in the dirt, "the man's been through enough shit that I wouldn't dream of dropping more on him."

"No arguments here," Isaura replied with a sigh. "You do realize that I'm a _mage_ , right? One hit from you and I'll be paste."

Bull snickered and replied," I'm not going to hit you; you're gonna try and hit me. I've seen you thwacking people with that staff of yours, so you can't tell me you're not capable." He held up his own stick. "All I'm doing is blocking."

Isaura sighed again and hefted the stick. "This is like what you were doing with Cassandra when we got home from Adamant."

"Yup. You have a lot of tension to work off, and we can't do it the easy way. So we're doing it the hard way. Try to hit me, Isaura; I guarantee that you won't hurt me."

"You would think, after seeing _the_ Nightmare, that I would be safe from my own brain," Isaura grumbled, feinting high and then swinging towards Bull’s left side.

He blocked easily and said, “I wouldn’t think that. Scariest place is in your own head; you’ve got nowhere to hide and you’re there alone.”

“Scarier than the Fade and those damn fear-things?” she grunted, swinging at his ankles this time. The Qunari stepped over the stick, huffing a soft laugh at her swearing.

“Sure. At least in the Fade, we had each other and we had choices.”

“Bad ones,” Isaura replied with a sigh, thinking about Stroud. Bull reached out and gently tapped her on the head with his stick. “Hey, you said you wouldn’t hit me.”

“Sweetheart, if I had _hit_ you, you would know,” the one-eyed Qunari responded, grinning. Then he sobered. “I know I was just as eager to get the fuck out of there as anyone, but I would have backed you if you’d decided to stay and fight the demon. I would stand with you and Cassandra against anything.”

“At this point, you kind of _have_ , Bull,” Isaura said, laughing and swatting upwards with her stick. It did feel good to be moving instead of cowering in her tent or by the fire, waiting for dawn. “How many dragons are we up to now?”

“Nine,” Bull replied promptly. “I keep track.”

“I know you do,” Isaura said with a snort, swatting at him again. “Dammit, if we hadn’t been in such a damn hurry to stop the siege at Adamant, we _could_ have taken that demon out, I know we could.”

“With Hawke there as well? Fuck yeah, we could have,” Bull laughed, blocking her flurry without having to take a breath. “That thing should _still_ be grateful that we didn’t have time to kick its ass.”

“I can’t believe Hawke volunteered to stay in the Fade with Varric standing _right there_ ,” Isaura said, jabbing this time and actually meeting Bull’s skin, albeit gently since he deflected the blow. “And then she leaves it to me? I couldn’t have possibly done that to Varric.”

Bull laughed and stepped to one side as she jabbed again. “You could have if you’d had to. You’re tough, Isaura; when you’re really determined, you make Red look like a kitten. You'll get through this shit too.”

“All the things we've been through, and this is what gets me? It'll never happen; and yet it's still waking me up almost every night." The Inquisitor sighed, but she managed to block Bull's tap. "I'm so selfish, Bull.”

The Qunari gave her a sharp swat with his stick. “Knock that off,” he said. “The only other nightmare that gets you anywhere near as bad is about Haven. That should tell you something. Look, Boss. Everyone needs a safe place to retreat to when shit gets heavy. Skyhold _is_ home, but there's still that feeling that Corypheus could come over that wall any time he wanted to, and we'd be just as fucked as we were in Haven.”

“I know, I know,” Isaura grumbled, rubbing the side he’d swatted. “Look, I had the ‘he is your shelter’ conversation with Cassandra already. I know _why_ I have the nightmare, Bull. I just hate how much of a hold it has on me.”

“Don’t,” he said, dodging as Isaura made a much more creditable swipe at his head, actually cracking her stick on his horn. “We’re all afraid of losing the people we love, Boss. You think I don’t have nightmares about what could happen to my Chargers?” He let her hit him, and she could _tell_ he was letting her hit him, so she hit him again, harder. “There you go!” He ducked as she went for his head again. “In the end, we’ve got your back, just like you’ve got ours. If something even more fucked-up did happen, we’d be right there with you.”

“Thanks, Bull,” Isaura said, panting as she rested against the stick. “For the workout, too.”

The Qunari winked. “Any time you want a workout, Boss. Just don’t let your boyfriend get the wrong idea; I wouldn’t want him angry at me.”


	5. Dorian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's Dorian, who was going to be the last one in the original plan. As it stands now, I really am going to end up doing a chapter for each of the companions, at least. Warning for language, because Dorian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, please leave comments if you have 'em. I don't have a beta, so I'm posting these rough.

Dorian already had the chessboard set up when Isaura came out of her tent. "You sleep like the dead, Dorian. How could I have possibly woken you up and not Bull?" she said, sitting down across the board from her friend with a cup of tea.

"I was up already, of course," the Altus replied. "I have nightmares, too, you know. I'm pretty sure we all do."

"Bull told you about mine." Isaura, playing white, moved a pawn.

"Well, yes, because I asked him. You're my best friend, Isaura." Dorian made his own move, mirroring the Inquisitor's. "I would have asked _you_ , but you were in that Maker-cursed swamp again, and you're always kind enough not to take me there."

"I'm not sure if that's being kind to you or to the rest of us. You complain nonstop about the weather as it is." Isaura moved another pawn. "I'm pretty sure everyone in Skyhold knows about me by now; Runner isn't one of the ones who talks, but the Inquisitor waking up screaming isn't the kind of thing that stays quiet."

“Well, no,” Dorian admitted. “What with the whole Corypheus thing, no one really wants to bother you about it.”

“Except when we’re out in the middle of bloody nowhere,” Isaura replied with a soft laugh. “What, did you all draw straws to see what order you’d be going in?”

“Not…exactly. We’ve just noticed that it’s getting worse.”

“So you’re making sure I don’t snap and run screaming off into the wilderness before taking Corypheus out with me, huh?” Isaura said. The chess game continued around their conversation, and Isaura took Dorian’s rook. “No wonder Cullen always beats you; you’re so easily distracted.”

“For your information, I am trying to figure out how I can help you,” the man said with dignity, and Isaura grinned.

“He _is_ very distracting sometimes, isn’t he?”

“I was going to say you have no idea, but I don’t think that’s true.” Dorian captured one of Isaura’s knights, then almost dropped it at her next words.

“Strip chess. It’s a thing that happens.” The grin came back as she took a pawn with her bishop, getting into position to chase his queen back.

“I do not believe I needed to know that, thank you.”

Isaura laughed, taking one of Dorian’s knights. “For all you know, I’m making it up to win the game. It’s working, too.”

“So nice to know that embarrassing me has put you in a better mood.”

“You do it to me _all the time_ ,” Isaura retorted, and Dorian took her queen without arguing. “Wasn’t using her anyway,” the Inquisitor said, taking his bishop in return. “Look, I’ve been over this a thousand times; it’s getting worse because they’re still bloody out there.”

“I know,” Dorian said quietly. “And it would take someone far less observant than I to notice how Cullen stiffens up when anyone mentions Samson.”

“He was in Kirkwall. There’s a story there, probably several, but, as far as I can make out, Cullen sees Samson as what could have happened to him.”

“Which quite reasonably scares the shit out of you,” Dorian pointed out. “I don’t think this will actually help, but it scares the shit out of him, too.”

“It does help,” Isaura said with a sigh. “He doesn’t talk about what scares him, Dorian.” She sighed and almost absently added, “Check.”

“Losing you, obviously,” Dorian said, tapping a piece against the board as he looked at his friend. “I’m sure there are less-obvious things, Isaura, but that’s the big one. You have to admit it almost happens on a regular basis.” He escaped the check and captured a rook.

“Oh, I know. I actually tried to make a tally of all the times when I should have been dead and stopped because I was scaring myself,” Isaura said. “I’ve physically been in the Fade _twice_ , Dorian. At least, because who knows what Solas is doing?”

“It was bad tonight,” Dorian said quietly, returning to the original subject, and adding, “Now who’s being distracted? Check.”

Isaura snorted and took his queen. “That wasn’t distraction; that was a trap; If I wasn’t good at parallel-processing before this, I certainly am now.” She looked off into the forest. “Cullen and Carroll trained together.”

“Ah. Yes, that would make this worse, wouldn’t it?”

“I can’t blame him for taking this personally; the first templars they turned were the few who remained in Kirkwall. I know that hurt.” Isaura shivered. “What would have happened if Cassandra hadn’t gotten him out of there?”

“We’d all be royally fucked, for one thing,” Dorian said. “Cullen is a fantastic strategist, while I can’t personally say the same for Samson. Any time we’ve caught just the red templars, we’ve routed them entirely.”

“Well, they _are_ having to deal with weird crystal formations sprouting out of their bodies and apparently the stuff sings.” Isaura shrugged. “I haven’t heard it.”

“You have _that_ thing,” Dorian said, pointing at the Anchor with the knight he’d just taken. “That spirit—Cole—says it blanks out everything else. Check.”

“I know; he told me, too. He says it makes him sad, because he can’t help me.” Isaura slid her bishop over to take the threatening rook. “Mate.”

“You beat Cullen, too, right?” Dorian demanded. “It’s not just me you completely humiliate, right?”

“I do, though we’re about half and half,” Isaura said with a laugh, and then winked. “I win more often if I start stripping from the top.” Dorian turned red, and the Inquisitor laughed again. “Thanks for the game, though. Look, it’s probably going to be bad for the next couple of days. We’ll go home as soon as we find that last damn astrarium.”

“And then we’ll be back, because Fairbanks will need something, or we’ll have forgotten to pick daisies for the Empress or something. At least the area is picturesque.”

“If you ignore the great bears and the giants, yes,” Isaura said with a snort. “I should let you get back to your nice, warm Qunari. Thank you for the conversation, Dorian.”

“When I said I would literally do anything for you, Isaura, I meant it. Anything else I can do to help you, you let me know, all right?” Dorian stood and hugged his friend gently. “You’re not alone.”

“You know, Bull said the same thing,” the Inquisitor said. “I promise you guys are important to me as well. Good night, Dorian.”


	6. Mostly Sera

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sera, being helpful in her own very Sera way. Being Sera, there's a bit of language. Not much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was easier than I thought it would be. This may be it from Blackwall, too; I don't do his voice well. We'll see.
> 
>  
> 
> Comment, kudos, whatever the mood takes you! Thanks for reading!

"Hey, you doing all right? Not going to go all mental on us because you miss your Cully-Wully, are you?" That was Sera for you: where everyone else was treading carefully because the Inquisitor was clearly in a bad mood, Sera was not the kind of person who trod lightly around anyone for any reason.

"Give her a break, Sera," the man they all still called Blackwall said, smiling at Isaura. "It's a bit more complicated than that." They were in Emprise du Lion again, looking for Fade rifts, hence the Inquisitor's bad mood.

"I know, I know," the elf said, rolling her eyes as she checked her bowstring. "Everything is bloody complicated these days. Not that I blame you for having nightmares," she added to the mage. "This whole damn thing is a bloody nightmare."

Isaura smiled faintly. "If I do go completely out of my mind out here, just point me in the direction of one of those dragons; either they'll take care of it or I'll snap out of it."

"And have to face Commander Stick-Up-the-Arse if something happens to you?" Sera scoffed. "No thank you. Do us a favor and just don't go bonkers while you're with us. Wait until you have Cassandra with you; she could take you _and_ the dragon."

“ _Please_ stop calling him that,” Isaura said with a smothered laugh. “He’s really not that bad.”

“Well obviously because he’s got _you_ , doesn’t he?” Sera replied, grinning. “But watching your face when I say it is totally worth it every time, because you wanna laugh, but you also _don’t_ wanna laugh, and you make the _best_ face.”

Isaura glanced at Blackwall, who shrugged. “She’s right. It is a good face.”

“So nice to have friends who support me when I’m down,” Isaura said, letting the laugh out this time.

“Hey, support isn’t always about being all lovey and shite,” Sera retorted. “You don’t laugh anymore, which is never good for anyone, much less you.” She shrugged. “I’m not Varric, I don’t have the clever words, so I take the piss out. ‘Sides, if you don’t have someone giving you shite, you start thinking you’re up there, and you forget about us down here.”

“You lot are important to me too, you know,” the Inquisitor said quietly. “I don’t know why this has gotten so bad; trust me, I’m no stranger to nightmares.” She shivered. “After the Fade, I didn’t sleep for a solid week. What if it had been one of you I’d had to leave behind? I feel bad enough about Stroud, but it would have killed me to lose one of you guys.”

“Have you thought about talking to Cole?” Blackwall suggested. “That boy has a lot of good ideas, but he can’t help you if you don’t let him.”

“Creepy little demon kid has to be good for _something_ ,” Sera agreed. Seeing the look of surprise from Isaura, she added, “You trust him, even if I don’t, and that’s what matters.” She shrugged, looking away. “He does help. I guess. Just so long as he stays away from me.”

“Thanks for the advice,” Isaura said. “I’m sorry this has become such a distraction.”

“That’s what friends are for, innit?” Sera retorted. “You helped me take care of Lord Wossname and I help you kick this bad dream right in the wedding tackle.”

“There’s a mental image for you,” Blackwall laughed. “She’s right, though. After everything you’ve done for us, it’s the least we can do to help you.” He went on ahead, looking for Bull, who had gone off to find the dragon that was supposed to be nearby.

After he was well out of earshot, Sera said in a quiet voice, “Look, I have nightmares about losing the people close to me, too; it’s sort of how you know it’s love, right?”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Isaura admitted with a smile. “Thanks, Sera.”

The archer, embarrassed, sloped on ahead yelling, “Seriously, Bull, if I end up faceplanting again because you’re in love with the dragon’s horns or whatever, I’m going to kick your arse clean back to Skyhold!”


	7. Vivienne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one ended up being quite short, because Vivienne is not really someone who waffles around. And yes, you may be spotting an actual plot in there. It's coming, I promise. Someday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I welcome comments, criticism, and the pointing out of really stupid typos. :P

"Hello, Vivienne," Isaura said, managing to dredge up a smile for the human mage. "I take it it's your turn to make sure the Inquisitor doesn't go mad?"

The other woman didn't answer at first, instead gazing out over the desert landscape they were camping in. The Hissing Waste had a whole lot of sand, quite a lot of scrub, and not much else. Finally Madame de Fer said, "If I thought you were going mad, my dear, I would have taken steps to protect myself, and I most certainly would not be here in the middle of nowhere with you."

Isaura snorted. "Fair point. I'm sorry, Vivienne. I'm just tired of all of this. There is no bloody reason why this should still be this bad."

The statuesque woman nodded, the ever-present wind sweeping her robes and Isaura's and making the noise that gave the Hissing Wastes their name. "I quite agree that this is getting out of hand. So what are you going to do about it?" She smiled at Isaura's expression, a genuinely sympathetic expression looking almost foreign on her face to anyone who only knew Madame de Fer the Ice Queen.

Isaura knew better, and knew what Vivienne was asking. "It's not quite that bad yet. I keep meaning to talk to Cole." Seeing the other woman shudder, Isaura smiled. "I know he's unsettling, but he really does help, if you let him. He's also gotten better with boundaries lately, which is probably why he's waiting for me to ask."

"He's always said he can't read you like he can the rest of us," Vivienne said with an elegant shrug. "If you really think it will help, my dear, by all means speak with the spirit boy. But what are you going to do until then? You need to sleep."

"You wouldn’t be bringing this up idly. You have a suggestion?" the Inquisitor asked.

"Well, I also have the odd bad night, particularly since my dear Bastien's death, so I had the apothecary mix something up, an old recipe I remember from my time at Court." Vivienne held out a beautifully embroidered silk pouch. "Being a Court lady is very stressful, and sometimes one just needs some help with shutting down those racing thoughts."

Isaura took the pouch. "If it was anyone else offering it, I would be warier," she said, tentatively sniffing the herbal mixture. "Adan has tried to drug me before, and it doesn't go well."

 "This is not a drug. Just some herbs that bring a perfectly dreamless sleep, my dear. I wish I could promise that it will work, but I suspect there is something more than bad dreams at work here." Vivienne shrugged again. "We must rule out the mundane solutions before trying anything more exotic. If this fails to help you sleep, or if you end up only being able to sleep under its influence, we shall have to seek another panacea. Rest assured, my dear: we will solve this. You are far too important to risk not finding the answer."

Isaura sighed. "Thank you, Vivienne. I hope I'm not leaving you short of something you need?"

"Of course not, my dear. Do let me know if it works." Vivienne smiled again and said, "And now I shall return to my tent; I feel positively scoured in this wind. Good night, darling."

 


	8. Cole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vivienne hinted that the nightmare might not be just bad dreams. Cole KNOWS it's not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has taken so long! Solas is being a pain in the ass, which, y'know, Solas. After this is Harding and then the Egg gets his turn. Hopefully he'll cooperate. I rather doubt it. 
> 
> This is the first try I've made at writing our forgotten boy, so please let me know if I can improve on him.

"It's not real." Cole's tone was not the usual placating reassurance, but one of mild confusion. "How is it hurting you so much when it's not real?"

Isaura, about to retort, paused. Cole had a different view of reality than anyone else, and he never asked meaningless questions, though you often didn’t realize what the meaning was until later. "I... don't know," she said. "At first, it was just a dream, the way my brain reacted to the horror of Sahrnia. But it's... not just a dream any more, is it?"

"No," the spirit boy agreed. "I told you I can't hear you as well because of that," he pointed to the Anchor. "But your friends worry and I hear that. They don't want you to know that they're afraid."

Isaura shook her head and stared out over the lush jungles of the Frostback Basin. "I wish they'd tell me that; we could all be afraid together. Are _you_ afraid, Cole?"

"I'm sorry I can't help," he said wistfully. "I guess I'm a little afraid, because the thing hurting you is _wrong_." He shook his own head, his hat reflecting the firelight oddly. "It isn't a dream or I _would_ be able to help. I'm good with dreams."

"I should have talked to you about it sooner, but it's only been the last few weeks where it's been this bad," the Inquisitor replied. "And we've been busy."

"Always busy, always moving. Can't catch us if we don't stop moving," Cole muttered. He glanced sideways at the Inquisitor. "I hear that all the time since Haven. But we did stop moving."

"It's not about not settling down in one place, Cole," Isaura explained. "It's... We're all kind of hurt from having our home taken away from us, just when we thought we had won." She shook her head. "Even though we beat Corypheus, it still doesn't feel like it's over."

"Still hurt, still hurting, why am I still afraid? Haven was months ago and the Inquisitor needs me to be the best. Gotta keep being the best. I wonder if Sister Nightingale will teach me that trick shot." Cole made a slight movement toward their camp; in addition to the Inquisitor and the spirit, Cassandra and Bull were out here, along with several of the Inquisition scouts.

"Harding," Isaura said softly. "She _is_ the best. I don't think I tell her that enough. Would it help if I did?"

"Yes," Cole said immediately. "She never wants to let you down-- feels like she has already."

"What? How? The Inquisition would have failed when it began, all the way back in the Hinterlands, if not for Lace Harding," Isaura said.

"Everyone knows she’s not sleeping," Cole said. "Should have done a better job of finding those villagers in Emprise. Should not have made the Inquisitor find them."

Isaura sighed. "Is she awake, Cole?"

"Yes. Bad dreams." The spirit smiled. "You're like I am. Helping people makes you feel better yourself."

"You'll find that's true of most people," the elf said with a smile of her own, standing up. "We're just not as good at it as you are and we're afraid of either making it worse or being hurt when we reach out." She offered a hand to Cole, who stood as well. "It's part of my job to reassure people; that's why I hate this nightmare so much. It hurts the people I’m supposed to be helping.”

“It doesn’t matter that it’s not real?” Cole asked.

“Oh, it’s real enough; it’s just not a nightmare anymore,” Isaura sighed, then looked down at the tents again. “Come on, Cole," she said. "Let's go see if we can help Harding."


	9. Harding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Though she's not officially one of the Herald's companions, somehow this didn't feel right without Lace Harding.

The nightmare came suddenly out of nowhere, so unlike its frequent and wearying visits before, that Isaura woke up screaming for the first time in almost a year. There was a commotion outside of her tent, and the Inquisitor dragged her sleep-muddled brain into full consciousness so she could reassure whoever she'd just frightened half to death. "I'm all right," she called. "Just a nightmare." She wasn't sure if she was reassuring herself or her people with that. With a deep sigh, Isaura went to apologize in person; it wasn't like she was going to get any more sleep anyway.

Lead Inquisition Scout Lace Harding was making tea, and she managed a creditable imitation of her usual carefree smile as Isaura joined her by the low fire. "I'm on night watch anyway, your Worship," the dwarf said. "You just startled me."

"Thanks for trying, Harding, but I'm pretty sure I scared the shit out of every hearing creature within two miles of the camp," the elf replied, rubbing under her mouth at the heart-shaped swirl of her vallaslin. "Not sure where that came from; I don’t like it, though. It’s the second time since we left Skyhold and I hadn’t had it since we defeated Corypheus.”

"Sometimes that happens," Harding said, pouring tea for both of them. This wasn't one of Vivienne's fancy herbal blends; the tea Leliana's agents drank on the job was harsh and black, with a bitter, smoky aftertaste. Isaura added sugar to hers. The scout continued, "The other night I had a dream about a boy I haven't seen since I was fifteen. Maybe it's the air here."

They were still in the Frostback Mountains, but much further south than their home in a glacier valley. The basin they were descending into was hot and humid, unlike the dry, biting cold higher up. “I hope this is worth it,” Isaura muttered. “I was actually enjoying the time off.”

“I’m sure you were,” Harding teased, and the Inquisitor laughed. “Trust me, ma’am. I wouldn’t have brought you out here if it wasn’t worth the trouble. Professor Kenric sounds a bit crazy sometimes, but his lead on the First Inquisitor is solid. Don’t get him going about buckles and you’ll be fine.”

Isaura stretched, rubbing thoughtfully at the vivid green mark on her left hand. “Cole said it wasn’t a dream,” she remembered. “I regret sending him ahead to the Avvar now; I should have asked more questions.”

“You can ask him tomorrow,” Harding said. “We’ll be to the base camp by afternoon. Your Worship?” For the first time in Isaura’s memory, the lead scout sounded hesitant. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Isaura sighed. “The tea and the company are helping immensely, Harding, thank you.” Remembering the nightmare from a week ago, the mage added, “This isn’t your fault. Your patrol would have gotten wiped out by the red templars in Emprise. Trust me: my nightmares would have been just as bad, if not worse, if that had happened.”

The dwarf gave her Inquisitor a crooked grin. “Cole said something, did he?” Harding shook her head. “I just have to remind myself that we saved a lot of lives there as well.”

Isaura nodded. “There and in a hundred other places across Ferelden and Orlais,” she said. “If this is a nightmare again, it will pass. It did last time. If it’s not, we’ll deal with it, just like we do everything else.”

“I wish you were being less literal with that ‘everything’,” Harding retorted, but the smile was more genuine now. “Do you think Master Pavus brought his chess set?”

“We can always find out,” Isaura replied. “Thanks, Harding. I couldn’t do any of this without you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so very long! The transitions are a mess, but we're on the home stretch now!


	10. Solas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was like PULLING TEETH, as evidenced by how long it took to finish. Last character-specific chapter, but there's an epilogue coming.

“What just happened?” Cassandra said, as the Inquisitor sat up slowly, holding her head. “I was about to start panicking and then you reappeared.”

“Re—oh, _fuck_. I went into the Fade again, didn’t I?” Isaura said, groaning. “I don’t know what happened, Cassandra. I tried Vivienne’s herbal stuff and I was going to try some of the meditation things you and Cullen taught me, and then…” She closed her eyes, rubbing her temples. “I can’t remember anything else. Demons, maybe? It _was_ the Fade.”

“Solas,” Cassandra said quietly. “You said his name as you woke.”

“Oh, well that explains why I can’t remember. Cole said that Solas can make people forget even better than he can, and apparently the Anchor doesn’t stop _him_ ,” Isaura grumbled, looking in her pack for something for her headache. “I hope I at least got to kick him in the shins, though I doubt it. Where’re the others?”

“A rift opened shortly after your breathing steadied,” Cassandra said. “I sent them to keep the demons off of us.” She offered her friend a hand, which Isaura took, standing with a sigh. “I think the rift and your disappearance are probably related.”

“Yeah, probably. The Anchor probably reacted to the rift, and then Solas…overreacted? When he realized I was actually there.”

“Is the… did you at least figure out the nightmare?” Cassandra asked.

“I don’t know. I feel better, apart from the _thumping_ headache, but that might just be the herbs. I’ve been getting _some_ sleep with them.” Isaura stretched. “Well, let’s go deal with this rift; we’ll figure out what our erstwhile hedge mage did to my head later.”

 

After defeating Hakkon, they returned to Skyhold. Instead of going inside to the war room, Isaura climbed up to the parapets, where she found Cole waiting for her. “Did you call Solas somehow?” she asked, sitting next to him. She seemed to spend an _awful_ lot of time up here, not that she was complaining. The view was unparalleled.

“Kind of?” Cole said, giving her a sidelong look. “I tried to talk to him before when he was here, but he didn’t think it was a demon then, but he almost never thinks it’s a demon, or even a spirit.” The boy shook his head. “He said it was just foolish dreams.”

“It might not have been a demon at that point; it felt just like a normal nightmare for a long time,” Isaura pointed out. “Thank you for what you did, Cole. I would be dead if I’d tried to go up against whatever it was on my own, I know that.” She snorted. “Foolish dreams. I wonder what we talked about when I saw him again?”

“You don’t remember anything?” Cole said, glancing at the Anchor, which was glimmering. “I couldn’t do that, not anymore and never to you.”

“I know. Scary, isn’t it?” the elf said with a crooked smile.

“You’re sad,” Cole said. “Sad about Solas making you forget.”

“Yeah,” Isaura sighed. “Solas was one of the first people who actually talked to me as _me_ , not the Herald of Andraste. Him and Varric. Even Cassandra treated me like something strange and divine, those first few weeks. Solas was my _friend,_ Cole. Why would I want to forget that I got to see my friend again?”

“Friends don’t always stay friends,” Cole pointed out. “Rhys didn’t want to be my friend when he found out what I was. Maybe Solas is afraid that what he is will make you not want to be his friend anymore.”

“Then he’s an idiot,” Isaura said tartly. “No offense to Rhys, but I don’t think I would feel the same. What could Solas possibly be that I wouldn’t want to know that he’s all right, at least? He’s obviously not something like Corypheus, and he’s not the damn Nightmare demon, and that’s all _I_ can think of.”

“You’re worried for him,” Cole said, and then sighed. “I am, too. I miss talking to him about being a spirit. Sometimes I thought he understood what I was better than I did.”

“He clearly thought so, too,” Isaura said wryly, remembering an argument about the true meaning of compassion. “I miss arguing with him about the Dalish, too.”

“Cullen is learning elvish,” Cole offered, which sounded like a change of subject, but Cole was good at making connections. “He has a friend who writes him letters, and Dorian found him some books.” Cole smiled. “Don’t tell him you know. He wants to surprise you.”

“I won’t, but thank you,” Isaura said. “That does make me feel better.” She stood up. “Speaking of Cullen, I need to go talk to him and the girls about the Frostback Basin and the first Inquisitor. Thanks again for helping me with the nightmare, Cole. If you get the chance, thank Solas for me too, would you?”

“I will.”

 As Isaura started going down the stairs that led to the courtyard, she heard, “May your dreams be free of shadows, Inquisitor.” It didn’t _quite_ sound like Cole, but she didn’t turn back around, knowing the boy would be gone if she did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that we're down here, I can say: Solas is a JERK. I mean I say that frequently anyway, but I really mean it. I have the parts that Isaura forgot written, but it didn't fit with the story. Because Solas is a jerk who talks too much. I may add it as a bonus chapter after the epilogue. I wrote it forever ago so I kind of need to edit it first.
> 
> Let me know if there are any errors, continuity or otherwise. A lot of things happened between the beginning and now. <3 you all for sticking with my rambly nonsense!


End file.
